


Edinburgh To Boston

by LadyJane518



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Funny, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-26 02:47:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17737556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyJane518/pseuds/LadyJane518
Summary: This is the story of Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp and James Alexander Mackenzie Fraser who are destined to be together.  They just don't know it yet.





	Edinburgh To Boston

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I am back with a new story. It will be a multichapter story. This story precedes the first fic I wrote A Call From The Mayor. It is the beginning of Jamie and Claire's story. Please bear with me, it is a slow burn.
> 
> I do want to thank two very special and talented writers who offered their encouragement and were the betas for this Jmoonrise and MClairefras.
> 
> I hope you enjoy my story.

Edinburgh to Boston  
Prologue  
We all have a destiny. Some of us are destined to be lawyers, doctors, nurses, politicians, superstar athletes, movie stars, spouses, parents, or lovers.  
How do we achieve our Destiny? Some philosophers are of the belief that our destiny is preordained even before we are born. One’s Destiny, if you subscribe to this belief, is written in the stars.  
Other thinkers espouse the concept that we arrive at our Destiny through our own behaviors. We are the makers of our own Destiny. What we do, or say, or don’t do or say will influence the outcome of our Destiny.  
But what happens when we ignore the call of our Destiny and walk right by it?  
That my friend is when Fate can step in. Fate presents us with the necessary opportunities to attain our Destiny. Fate may lend a hand to the matter to goose things along as it were. Particularly when your Destiny is staring you right in the face and you are too blind or too afraid to see it.  
This is the story of two would be lovers, one Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp and one James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser who have been and are destined to come together. They are soul mates, destined to become one with each other. But because they have allowed their fears to guide them, they have remained in the dreaded relationship called - friends.  
That is until Fate steps in to give these two eejits a swift kick in the arse.  
********************************  
Edinburgh to Boston  
Chapter One - The Airport  
“Well, it’s about time, Fraser!” Dr. Claire Beauchamp huffed making no effort to hide her annoyance. “If you were any later, you would have missed the flight.”

“Aye, aye Beauchamp, I ken,” apologized Dr. James Fraser. “There was more traffic heading to the airport which delayed me.”

He looked remarkably put together for a man in a suit and overcoat and remarkably not in the least bit breathless despite sprinting through Edinburgh airport with his luggage and that damn oversized messenger bag that he always carried.

“Besides Beauchamp, when have I ever let ye down?”

Claire glared at her colleague, friend, her surgical partner, “Humph, I thought this was going to be…Rome all over again.”

James’ face turned a bright red, his normally placid sky blue eyes darkened, narrowing to slits emphasizing their cat-like shape.

“Dinna bring up the Rome trip. Ye ken fine well that I had a skiing accident a few days before we were to leave.”

Oh, Claire did ken alright. The weekend before our trip to Rome for a Cardiothoracic surgery conference was the annual ski trip that several of the surgical attendings went on. That year they went to Glencoe Mountain. Among those going were Angus Moor, MD, general surgery, Ian Ross, MD, ENT, Rupert Mackenzie, MD, orthopedic surgery, Iona Baird, MD, vascular surgery and last but most certainly not least Laoghaire Mackenzie, MD, plastic surgery who wanted to sink her manicured claws into my partner.

She with a face so smooth and so frozen as to be expressionless when she spoke. Claire wondered how her mouth moved. Did she give herself her own Botox injections? If she stopped would her face fall down? Be nice Beauchamp, she thought.

“What was it you broke, your leg was it?” she asked sweetly.

James flushed hotly. “Ye ken it wasna my leg.”

“It was my arse” he mumbled.

“I beg your pardon. I didn’t quite hear you.”

"I broke my arse. The coccyx bone. It hurt like the devil. I couldna sit, spent most of my time on my belly or using the doughnut to sit on. Are ye satisfied now?” He was blushing furiously from his neck right up to his hairline. His ears must have been burning as they were bright red. “Rupert offered to fix it. I told him it would be a cold day in hell before I let him near my arse.”

Claire turned around to stare at his injured arse lifting up the skirt of his suit jacket. It looked the same to her. In fact, it looks fine, very fine indeed. What I wouldn’t give to just… Did I just think that?

“Dinna be staring at my arse, Beauchamp.” He brusquely swatted my hand away from his jacket. “It hasna changed at all!”

An elderly couple sitting in the same waiting area were busy watching this exchange with a smirk on their faces trying very hard not to laugh.

“Have a care Beauchamp, do ye no realize we are in public and people are watching?” A second later, “If ye wanna look do it in private,” James murmured so softly as to be almost unintelligible, but Claire heard him.

“Pardon? I didn’t get what you last said.”

“Nuthin’.”

“Just consider it professional curiosity, Fraser, is all.” Claire snorted letting out with another loud guffaw.  
“And did Laoghaire apply ice packs to your bum for you?” By now Claire was roaring with laughter. Tears were rolling down her face, her sides ached, and she could not get her breath.

Dr. James ‘my body is a temple’ Fraser, who never ate anything unhealthy, worked out daily, took the stairs instead of the elevator, all-around athlete and horseman, broke his arse skiing. It was just too much. Claire managed to catch her breath long enough to ask him how he had sustained such an ignoble injury.

James, a true born Scot, loved to tell stories. He entertained everyone from patients to nursing staff, to the office staff with stories from the Highlands. Stories of selkies, faeries, water horses, magic stones were told and told often to the delight of everyone. Now, despite the fact that he was telling a very embarrassing personal story, he settled into his storytelling mode.

“The lads and I had a wee bit too much to drink with lunch, ye see.”

She could see. Whisky was James’ only vice and he could easily have had one too many at lunch.

“So, since I was the best skier in the group, the lads challenged me to ski the Flypaper. Do ye ken the Flypaper, Beauchamp?”

She shook her head no.

“Hum, weel the Flypaper is considered the steepest slope in all Scotland. Some say maybe it is the steepest in all Europe. It is considered a black run, for experts only. So I took the challenge.” He shrugged.

“After having too much to drink, you decided it was a wise choice to ski down this black slope thing? Fraser, what were thinking?” By now Claire wasn’t laughing anymore, she looked at him as if he was desperately in need of a brain transplant. Heart transplants she could do, brain transplants, no.

“Obviously, Beauchamp, no much,” James said wryly. “The slope is quite steep maybe 40 to 45 degrees, ye ken. So there I am in my tuck, sliding, gliding along, feeling so free.”

“You mean drunk, don’t you Fraser?” 

James glared at her.

“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, my skis hit a rock outcrop that was buried under the snow and I went sailing so high, I felt like a bird. I could see everything and everyone around me. It was beautiful. Until I landed on my arse and bounced down the slope for a while before I came to a stop.” 

James stopped momentarily in the telling of his story to look at Claire giving her a rather sheepish grin. Claire’s eyes began to crinkle with mirth all while biting her lower lip in an attempt not to laugh.

“I didna feel anything at first having been properly medicated, so I finished the run. By the time I got to my room, it was quite a different story. My arse hurt sae bad, I couldna walk, sit or do much of anything else. Rupert said I had broken my coccyx and there was naught to do about it except rest, ice it, and take some non-steroidal pain meds. I told ye that Rupert jokingly offered to fix it, but I declined.”

Claire began to laugh again, imagining him flying in the air, then landing on his bum bouncing his way down the ski slope. Her sides were hurting, it was hard to catch her breath, and tears were rolling down her face. She felt like she couldn’t stand anymore, so she did the next best thing and leaned into James’ chest.

She looked up into his clear blue eyes, now shining bright with laughter. His lip was curled up into his trademark half smile. Slowly, his arms came round to hold her.

“'Tis funny now, I’ll tell ye, but it wasna then. Ye were right about Laoghaire. Laoghaire did offer to bring the ice, but I said nay. Rupert got it for me. For my troubles the lads bought me a bottle of Glenfiddich 30-year-old single malt whisky. Havena opened it yet. Ye like to take a dram or two do ye no, Claire?”

Her breathing began to ease and she suddenly became aware that she was in James’ embrace. His blue eyes were intent on her. His head lowered and he looked like he wanted to kiss her and kiss her for all she was worth. Quickly, Claire took two steps back breaking the embrace.

“Well, Fraser, I hope you learned your lesson,” she said rather sternly, “not only did you break your arse, but you broke your word to your partner. Rather bad form don’t you think?”

“Aye, Beauchamp, I did and it was. You have my deepest apology for my poor judgment and behavior. I left ye stranded and that was wrong of me. I am yer partner, yer friend, and ye should be able to count on me. I promise ye it will never happen again. I dinna make idle promises Beauchamp. Ye have my word.”  
He looked at me rather strangely just then. There was the distinct feeling that I was looking at a Highlander, a warrior making his vow of fealty to his laird or perhaps to his lady. His piercing blue eyes stared straight into my soul. All the hairs along the nape of my neck and on my arms stood up. My heart began to beat faster. How odd.

The old woman sitting on the hard plastic chair nudged her husband in the side with her elbow, "Ye see Harry, I told ye. They’re in love. They just dinna ken it yet.” She softly chortled. Her husband smiled lovingly at her, brought her aged work-worn hand to his lips and kissed it tenderly. He nodded in agreement, “Just as I love ye mo ghràdh.”

Flight 9838 Edinburgh to Boston Logan International Airport now boarding at Gate 43. Please have yer boarding passes ready.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, we will see what happens during this transatlantic flight, won't we?
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the story as much as I did writing it.  
> I can be found on Tumblr at: https://eclecticstarlightconnoisseur.tumblr.com/  
> I would appreciate any constructive thoughts or comments you might have.  
> Thank you for reading.


End file.
